


In Which I Have A Depressive Episode And Project Onto Stephanie

by Bronzeflower



Series: Me, Projecting on Stephanie [1]
Category: LazyTown
Genre: Coloring, Counting, Depression, How I deal with my own depression, I swear, Projecting on Characters, also i go nonverbal during depressive episodes so there's that too, bc robbie has depression too, because i always project everything onto my favorite characters, but i honestly can't tell because absolutely everything overlaps, but i sure am feeling like shit, do i have x disorder or y disorder, ha ha ha - Freeform, i also hc that steph has autism, i certainly don't know - Freeform, i don't really know what else to tag this as, if it's not depression it's probably something else, im fine, it's all good, just projecting onto my favorite character, robbie doesn't really do much bc he knows that there isn't really anything he can do, silently supporting you, so i guess it doesn't matter that much, sometimes people are overwhelming, sometimes you just gotta have someone who's presence is there, sportscandy - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 13:26:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9493424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bronzeflower/pseuds/Bronzeflower
Summary: Stephanie goes to Robbie's lair when she has a depressive episode





	

**Author's Note:**

> I was having a depressive episode, so I wrote this to avoid thinking about other things

Nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing.

What about nothing? Nothing matters. Nothing’s worth it. Nothing feels like it should. Just, nothing, nothing, and more nothing.

Empty is a word. Described as nothingness often. There was nothing.

She’s tired. So, so tired, yet unable to fall asleep. Unable to reach that point where she feels okay.

Why should she get up? Brush her teeth, get dressed, get breakfast, exercise, and have fun with friends. It all sounds so exhausting.

But she couldn’t just allow the thoughts of worthlessness and suicide to permeate and percolate in her brain. She had to do something.

So, she got up, not bothering to change out of her pajamas. She dragged herself over to Robbie’s layer and went inside.

Robbie was asleep in his comfy orange chair once Stephanie got down there, but that was fine. Stephanie made her way over to the coloring books that Robbie kept in the corner of the room for when she came over.

She picked up a red crayon and began to carefully color in the lines. One, two, three, four strokes of the crayon. Five, six, seven, eight more lines of red drawn. A few more, and Stephanie put down the red crayon in favor of a purple one.

One, two, three, four. Five, six, seven, eight. Stephanie counted each stroke. One, two, three, four. Five, six, seven, eight. She allowed herself to get into the pattern and rhythm of coloring inside the lines of the coloring book.

She could hear shuffling behind her, knowing that Robbie was awake now, likely getting some food for himself.

Stephanie was briefly interrupted from her drawing when Robbie placed a carrot next to her.

“I know you probably don’t really feel like eating, but food is there if you need it.” Robbie said before walking off and doing his own thing.

Stephanie didn’t really want to eat anything, but she knew she should, so she tried to take a small bite of the carrot. The bite came off with a satisfying crunch, and she put the sportscandy back down and continued with her drawing.

This is why she always went to Robbie’s lair when she got like this. He didn’t ask questions or push her to talk to him about anything. He just understood. Sportacus and the others were great, but they would ask questions, and she really didn’t want them to know that she sometimes got like this.

She was supposed to be the happy one, the one who always has a smile on their face. She was meant to dance and sing and have lots of energy, so she didn’t want them to know there were times where she couldn’t muster up the energy to do anything, and everything feels empty, and it feels like nothing matters.

So, instead, she went to Robbie’s place, sat in a corner, and colored. Sometimes she wrote, but she couldn’t do that for long before her mind became fuzzy and cottony, and she just couldn’t think.

So she drew, one stroke at a time, with any color that suited her fancy. Red, blue, green, purple, yellow, orange, pink, black. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.

**Author's Note:**

> This is legit how I deal with my depressive episodes honestly


End file.
